Beginnings
by Yuki KIKI
Summary: Every ending starts with a beginning. Just a few quick glimpses into our heros pasts. Hopefully it isn't too painful. Chpt 3: Faust VIII
1. Of Shikigami and Fiancees

_A/N_: Well, here it be, a collaboration of mental drool dedicated to the cast of Shaman King, and just generally the first steps toward them becoming the mildly insane lot they are today. Meaning I'm focusing on meetings and departures that aren't really explained in depth in the manga or anime. Anyhoo, on with the story. Holy Crap! Here it comes!

This Disclaimer is Cool: If I owned Shaman King, **_I_** would be cool. But I don't, so I'm not. Le sigh.

_**Beginnings**_

_Of Shikigami and Fiancées_

"_Muh._" Was the only sound the four year old could possibly vocalize as he flopped weakly onto the dry, scratchy grass. His over-sized orange headphones dug uncomfortably into the backs of his ears, but he really didn't have the energy to _care_, let alone actually do something to remedy the situation.

"Don't tell me you're exhausted _already_ boy! We've just barely begun! Get up!"

"Ugh… Noooo…" moaned the small shaman-in-training with a weak wave of his hand, as if he could simply swat away the old mans words as he rolled over lazily to show his grandfather his back. Not that Yoh had actually _heard_ what the other shaman was saying, all he could pick out was a kind of irritating buzz lost beneath the sound of his wheezing. Well, after training with the old fart for the entirety of his life (all whopping four years of it), it had reached the point where he didn't _need_ to hear the mans words to know what he was saying…

"_One who gives up too easily can never get anything done. Blah blah blah. Spirits this, spirits that, blah blah. Don't put that in your mouth, it's disgusting. Blah blah blah keep training_. _Blah de blah blah blahbbity blah blah blah…"_

Yohmei stared down at his grandsons back with a detached feeling of disbelief as the tiny boy mumbled away to himself. Someday he would _really_ have to teach the boy to stop vocalizing his inner dialogue… Oh well, at least this way he always knew what his grandson was thinking… It was times like these that made the old man really feel his age. To think, the fate of the entire prestigious Asakura line laid entirely on the shoulders of this hopeless slacker… Oh what was the world coming to?

"…_grumble_…stupid leaves… _mumble_… stupid smelly, balding old men… ice cream…"

"EX-_CUSE _ME!" the little boy snapped out of his reverie to glance over his shoulder in pale-faced shock and horror. When grandpas eyes got all big and veiny like that, Yoh got kind of scared they'd pop out and attack him or something equally horrible… "I'll show you what this _smelly balding old man_ can do, you lazy _idiot_!" the old man barked as the brown, dead leaves littering the field burst into violent (literally) motion.

"ACK!" _'He's psychic too?'_

Poor Yoh nearly made it all the way back to the main house before the leaf sprites caught up. And almost cut his usual sprinting time in half to-boot, Yohmei Asakura found himself nodding in admiration as he tinkered with his stopwatch. He paused while logging this in Yohs personal training log just long enough to give his grandson an absent thumbs-up in response to the little boys cries of "Call Them Off! CALL 'EM OFF! ARGH!"

**n.n**

"Honestly, if you want to be the Shaman King half as badly as you claim to, you _really_ must work harder with your trai-"

"I don't wanna." Yohmei rolled his eyes in exasperation as he lectured (or at least tried to) the four year old. Yoh poked half-heartedly at his rice, his rounded face set in a pout as he sulked about the events that had unfolded shortly before lunch. "I wanted to be the Shaman King so I wouldn't _have_ to work hard." He sniffed pointedly as he nibbled on the end of his wooden chopstick.

"You can never have something for nothing Yoh, that's just not the way the world works. The Great Spirit doesn't integrate with just any old fool you know, you have to _earn_ the honour of being the Great Spirits host. Only a powerful shaman can do that." Yoh chewed thoughtfully on the end of his chopstick in response to his grandfather's words.

"But I _am_ powerful!" the little boy smirked triumphantly around his chopstick, a disturbing glint in his eye as he flexed his mighty, mighty four year old muscles.

"You Can't Even Summon a _Shikigami_!" the senior Asakura felt a vein twitch in his forehead as he glared down at his tiny grandson, who had obviously not registered what the old man had said at all, as he posed heroically and punched jubilantly at some invisible foe, still diligently gnawing away on the end of his chopstick. "Take That Out of Your Mouth! You'll _Ruin_ Your Teeth!"

**n.n**

"Ooowww… You didn't have to hit me."

"Oh stop whining, I barely even tapped you. Now eat your food before it gets any colder." The old man sighed in resignation as he leaned back with his trusty pipe. Yoh chewed thoughtfully (and thankfully silently) on a rice ball, actually obeying his grandfathers commands (for once). The onmyôji smiled softly as he gazed down at his grandsons uncharacteristically serious visage- it was times like these the boy reminded him so much of his own son, Mikihisa… Then again, by the time Mikihisa was four, he was already starting to learn how to integrate a soul into his own body, so beyond physical appearances the resemblance was nil. Yohmei felt that familiar vein throb beside his temple, but, as always, it was more a fond irritation than outright anger. In all honesty, he was proud of Yoh (despite the poor boys infuriatingly lazy tendencies) and wouldn't give him up for the world… The small boy glanced up from his dinner to give the older man a perplexed look.

"Sumt'n funny grampa?" he smacked obnoxiously around a mouthful of food before his eyes widened in realization. "Do I go' sumt'n stuck on ma face?" Yohmei bowed his head, trying vainly to suppress his grin as he watched Yoh rub vigorously at his face with the back of his hand. It was times like this he wondered how such a carefree child had come from two such serious and reserved adults… _'Ah Keiko, if only you could see your precious son now…'_ Wait a second… There had been something he was supposed to mention… Now what was that again…?

"Ah yes!" he exclaimed, smacking his fist against his open palm and startling the younger shaman-in-training from his previous face-scrubbing activities. "Yes… that's it!"

"…What's 'it' grandpa…?" Yoh said cautiously as he leaned slightly away from his grandfather. The senior Asakura gave the boy what he was sure was his most comforting smile. Yoh began to shake as he leaned further away, his eyes widening in horror, quickly glancing between his grandfather and the door as if he was weighing his options. Not only did the 'smile' look more like a savage baring of teeth, the unnatural expression also increased the number of wrinkles on the elders face threefold, giving the illusion of his eyes disappearing into malicious narrowed slits of grey sagging skin, and for some odd reason, made his ears wiggle ominously…

Seeing that the 'comforting' smile hadn't had the desired effect on the (traumatized) boy, Yohmei instead settled for his usual 'knowing' smile as he puffed absently on his pipe.

"Your grandmother is coming for a visit today Yoh, and she's bringing a guest." The four year old blinked in surprise. A guest? Here? He wondered who, or what, it could possibly be… He felt the excitement bubbling up to the surface as his mind flew through all the possible options, until suddenly, it hit him. It was obvious! It had to be… He felt his face twist into a huge grin as he lunged at his grandfather with joy, taking the older man by surprise and actually knocking him over. Yohmei felt himself chuckle heartily at his grandsons excitement, playfully tousling the small boys hair as he pulled himself back up amidst the four year olds never-ending repetitions of "Oh thank you thank you thank you!"

"I see your happy about meeting Anna! Heh, you should have heard the racket your father kicked up about it all those years ago." The onmyôji chirped. Yohs face fell instantly.

"…'Anna'? Is that the elephants name?"

**n.n**

Yohmeis scowl deepened as he checked inside the broom closet, various shikigami zipping by, also poking and prodding around the Asakura compound and the surrounding landscape.

To make a long story short, Yoh hadn't been pleased with the news.

The old shaman growled softly in exasperation as he slid the closet door shut behind him.

And now Yoh was missing.

A small leaf sprite wafted up and offered the elder Asakura his hip flask, to which the man gratefully took a swig, then sternly handed it back to the shikigami as he dragged himself wearily over to the table once more.

"Fill it with something stronger. _Much_ stronger." He rasped over his shoulder at the small earth spirit, his voice already raw from the contents of the flask. The leaf sprite gave a sharp nod before disappearing back into the depths of the Asakura compound. Yohmei rested his head in his hand. He'd need _something_ to dull the pain after being chewed out by his wife when she showed up with her precious apprentice all the way from Mt. Osore only to find him pupil-less…

**n.n**

Yoh stopped briefly by one of the springs on his families compound, the red tablecloth containing all his worldly possessions bobbing ungracefully at the end of the broomstick he'd managed to smuggle from the kitchen. Marry _him_ off will they? No way! Girls were _gross_. They were all… giggly, and played dumb things like 'house' or dressing up their dolls or something. And they had 'cooties'. He'd heard some of the other boys in his kindergarten mention it, and though he wasn't really sure what these mysterious 'cooties' were, they certainly didn't sound good… Besides, no one else in his class was married, well, except the teacher, but she was old and smelled funny…

Gradually, the noise inside his head died away as he gazed deep into the small streams surface, easily becoming mesmerized by the tiny swirls of spiritual energy, twisting and unfurling with the current like they were performing some sort of dance for his eyes only.

Maybe… maybe he would go back. At least be man enough to tell this 'Anna' that he'd sworn himself to celibacy to her face instead of running off behind everyones backs… Besides, he simply couldn't think of any kind of performance he'd like to star in after he'd joined the circus…

"Hey." Yoh whirled around in shock, to find himself face to face with a strange blonde girl with the most disdainful look humanly possible gracing her almost elfin features. "Are you Yoh Asakura?"

"… Uh huh." He gaped stupidly in response. The next thing he knew, he was falling, falling, falling backwards to end with a rather graceless splash in the stream he'd been admiring less than a minute ago. The young Asakura stuttered in shock, too shaken by the sudden turn of events to even begin to form comprehensible _words_, let alone a sentence. The girl scowled darkly at him, firmly planting her hands on her hips as she stuck her nose in the air.

Yoh wasn't brave enough to point out the fact that, at his level, he could see up her skirt. Instead, he chose the route that was less likely to get him killed.

"Wh- Why'd you push me?"

"Because it's _rude_ to make a lady wait." Yoh simply blinked at the sheer lack of logic in this reasoning.

"You shoved me because of _that_?"

"_Especially_ if that lady is your _future wife_." The girl snapped sharply down at him. Yohs jaw dropped. There was a long pause as he quietly looked her over.

"You're… Anna?"

"That's right."

"…_Man_, you're _ugly_!"

This time Annas jaw dropped.

…Hell hath no fury…

**n.n**

"OwOwOwOwOWWW!" He struggled pathetically against the iron grip clamped firmly (and most uncomfortably) around his ear as Anna literally dragged him (bloodied and bruised) back to his house. Finally, when his insistent snivelling grew too annoying to ignore, she stopped in her tracks and unceremoniously threw the blubbering boy to the ground, swooping down upon him like a hawk upon an unsuspecting field mouse. With much the same result.

"Stop whining! You're supposed to be a _boy_ aren't you? I can't believe _you _are senseis grandson. Look at you, you're so… so _weak_. _Y_ou're nothing but an embarrassment to the whole Asakura name. If I were your grandmother, I'd be ashamed to admit you were a part of my family." Yoh struggled to his feet, indignantly rubbing the tears from his eyes as he glared at Anna.

"I am _not_ weak." He sniffed, his voice cracking slightly from previously screaming. He crossed his arms and stuck his nose up in air, doing his best impersonation of the blonde girl. The itako-in-training narrowed her eyes at him. What? Was he, a lowly, moronic _weakling_ honestly challenging _her_? Her teeth clenched as she raised his confiscated broomstick threateningly. What had her teacher been thinking when she arranged for this _doofus_ to be her future husband? She deserved _so_ much better. Suddenly, the boys stern visage cracked- first one corner of his lip twitched, then the other, and then he just… burst.

Burst out into laughter. For the second time that day, Anna was caught totally off-guard. Then, she felt the indignation and anger slowly bubble to the surface, her tiny hands clenching into tiny fists as she grated her teeth.

"Are you _mocking_ me?" she snapped coolly, making sure every word was laced with cold, dripping poison. The boy bit off his laughter as best he could, choking off the last few giggles as faked coughs before he turned back to face her, his arms resting behind his head and a relaxed smile on his face.

"Heh, I guess we started out on the wrong foot huh?" she blinked in response; of all the things she'd been expecting from the dorky-ily dressed boy, it certainly wasn't that. "So, why don't we just start over?" He bowed respectfully (for the first and last time in his life) before continuing. "My name is Asakura Yoh, future Shaman King extraordinaire."

The awkward silence that followed that statement was broken by the sound of a disdainful scoff.

"Shaman King? _You_? As if the King of Spirits would _degrade_ Himself by communicating with someone as stupid as _you_." Where she'd been hoping to goad him to anger, instead she was met with an amiable, half-lidded smile.

"Maybe you're right…" the boy whispered softly, the wind blowing his thick bangs into his face as he turned to gaze up into the lowering afternoon sun. "But you never know… nothing's impossible." He finished with a cheerful chirp as he turned back to her, the whimsical expression gracing his features moments ago wiped clean beneath his goofy smile. Anna stared at him a moment before she had to turn away and slowly start back to the main house. She'd have to kill him if he knew he'd somehow managed to make her smile.

"It's improbable and grossly unlikely."

"But not impossible!" he quipped from behind her as he scrambled to catch up. He bumped into her back when she suddenly halted again. After a brief pause she purposefully dropped Yohs makeshift knap-sack to the ground with a heavy thunk (and the distinct tinkle of something being broken). "Hey!" she heard him exclaim as he dove for his junk. "That's my stuff!" She swiftly crouched down and absently batted his hands away from the bulging pile.

"I like this colour." She stated simply as she untied the red sheet and ripped it out from beneath the mound of random crap her future husband had decided to lug off with him. "I'm going to keep it." His mouth dropped open in protest, but she quickly cut him off with a pointed glare. "Think of this as our promise- If you're the Shaman King by the time we get married, I'll give it back to you. If you're not, I'll use it to hang you. Understood?" the boy gulped and nodded. Good. He could be trained. "Now pick up your junk and lets get back. Supper should be ready by now." She finished as she absent-mindedly tucked the wrinkled red cloth under her arm.

"…Can I at least have the tablecloth back to tie it all up in again?"

"No."

And thus a beautiful relationship begins...

End Rant 

Well, there be chapter one. Good? Bad? Retina-explodingly ugly? Constructive criticism is accepted and greatly appreciated.


	2. One Good Turn

_A/N: Well, here it is- Chapter two. I'll give you all fair head warning: I have no idea about the traditions and/or culture of the Ainu people- this is all pulled from the top of my head. So if I make a mistake, feel free to point it out (the more you know…), just try not to be too rude about it ;) Argh. Sorry about the boring beginning of this chapter- just had to try setting things up a bit (poor HoroHoro's past isn't nice and laid out in the manga like Yohs- so I couldn't be lazy like the last chapter XP) Just as a totally random note: My spell check keeps wanting to change 'HoroHoro' to 'Hoodoo'…_

This Disclaimer has Issues: Actually, I **do** own Shaman King. Mmyep, Hiroyuki Takei, that's me. I just ate a bad ham sandwich that spontaneously changed my gender, age, and ethnicity. Really.

_**Beginnings**_

_One Good Turn..._

Dark eyes swept over the bulging sack with furrowed concentration as the mans calloused, powerful hands tugged roughly upon various straps and buckles, making certain nothing was in danger of coming loose during the week ahead. Several of the other men around him did the same as yet others checked their weapons- carefully evaluating the razor points, then hunching down to file this edge or that, before straightening and eyeing the head again. There was no room for error. It was a beautiful, mild-weathered mid-October morning, the sun just peeking over the snow-capped mountains to make the early-morning frost clinging to the yellowed grass and bare branches glitter. A fine day for the hunt. With luck, the weather would stay like this the length of the week. However, this late in the season, one could never be too sure… The gods of winter were unpredictable and harsh to any mortal foolish enough to underestimate their power. The witch of November was well known to ride the north winds as early as late September, stealing the breath of the old and sickly, covering their frail bodies in a deceivingly harmless layer of frost… The man groaned to himself as he ran his calloused hand through his strikingly blue locks- they were toying with fate to go out on the hunt this late in the year…

Then again, not much could be done to prevent it- Not only did the harvest run later than usual, but they had lost more land to the Machine. Apparently, some men from the city discovered crude oil beneath the bog-lands to the south- dangerously close to another Ainu settlement, the Polrükkoro village, and, as always, the men from the city had swept in like prey birds over carrion, waving useless pieces of paper claiming they had the rights to _own_ the land. He felt himself sigh wearily, as if a _human_ could possibly _own_ the land. To make a long story short, they moved into the swamps, draining the waters and burning the plant life to make room for their gasoline-powered, pollution-spewing mechanical monsters. Obviously, the Ainu were forced out of their homes to wander the northern wilderness. His village welcomed them in and helped them resettle into their town- No Ainu ever left their brethren stranded. So thus, the hunt was put off until this late- it was now or never, if they didn't go their families probably wouldn't make it through the winter. The man swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as his thoughts drifted to his own wife and two children- he couldn't bare the thought of them suffering…

"Oi, Hororu," the mans head snapped up to stare at the younger man blankly. He blinked in surprise at the knowing grin lighting the younger mans (and several of the others) face as he pointed casually at something over Hororus shoulder. The older man blinked again as it sunk in and he slowly turned around in confusion.

He didn't turn fast enough…

"Gack!" was all the Ainu could choke out as he was hurled to the ground, the sound of warm laughter resounding behind him a strange contrast to the cold earth he was pinned on. All he could see from his right eye was a mess of spiked blue, his left tightly shut for fear of being blinded by the rather pointed poke-worthy locks, two much smaller arms wrapped tightly (and rather uncomfortably) around his thick neck. A strong hand reached up to ruffle the childs hair.

"Horo?"

"Hmm…?"

"…I can't breath." Hororu gasped audibly as he pushed himself off of the damp earth, pausing briefly to stare in anguish at his shirt (they hadn't even set out yet and he was already covered in mud!), before his gaze fell on the tiny boy still perched expectantly on his knee, chest heaving from having run so far and toothy smile threatening to split the five-year-olds face in two. The older man couldn't stop the grin that tugged at the corners of his own mouth as he stared down into the chubby face so like his own. It was only then that he noticed the small daypack swung haphazardly over one of the boys shoulders.

"And where are you off to this early in the morning? Usually I don't get to see your snotty little nose until lunch." He teased lightly. There was a brief pause as his son panted a few more times until he managed to get his breath back, then he puffed his little chest out and tilted his chin up with pride.

"I'm going with you!" he nodded smugly, as if finalizing the obviously spontaneous impulse. Hororu quirked an eyebrow in amusement as a few more kind-hearted snickers slipped out behind him.

"Oh, are you now?" he drawled in absently as he allowed his childs smug look to reflect in his older visage. The boy nodded again. "I hate to say it kid, but I'm 'fraid you're not quite big enough yet. Maybe you can tag along in the next year or two." _'Or ten.'_ He quipped cheerfully.

"But I _am_ big now- Seeeeee?" the blue haired youth pleaded, drawing back his lips in an exaggerated smile to show off his missing tooth.

"Yeah, but what if a bug flies in through that gap Horo? Then what'll you do?" the blue haired boys face fell into a look of shock and horror. Then scrunched up in thought. Obviously he hadn't thought of that one… His face suddenly brightened as he beamed up at his father with renewed determination.

"I'll spit it back out!"

"Sorry kiddo, no can do. You have to have _all_ your teeth to come on this trip." The five-year-olds shoulders slumped, his hastily packed daypack drooping sadly down his arm as he gave his father his best puppy eyes. Hororu gave him a re-assuring smile as he ruffled his spiky hair fondly. "Besides, I need you to stay home to take care of your mum and sister. I couldn't leave my two favourite ladies alone and defenceless while I'm gone, now could I?" HoroHoro blinked as his face scrunched up in thought once more.

"… I suppose not…" Hororu felt himself relax slightly as he gazed down into the boys contemplative pout.

"That's the spirit Horo, you're the official 'Man of the House' until I get back, k?"

"Okay." The child sighed dejectedly as he slowly hauled himself off his fathers knee to start trudging gloomily back down the path to the village.

"Don't be like that, I won't be gone long- just a week. When I get back I'll buy you a whole bag of marshmallows, and we'll go ice-fishing together, k?" Hororu called out as stood up and brushed as much mud and dead grass from his pants as possible. The boy brightened instantly as he whirled around to show his father one extended little finger. The blue-haired man grinned goofily as he held up his own pinky finger in return.

_'I promise.'_

With that, the boy nodded happily and waved before turning and sprinting down the path and out of sight, his daypack bobbing manically on his small back. Hororu couldn't seem to drop that slight grin, the memory of his sons smile warming him from the inside, even as he hauled his own over-stuffed pack onto his back and started off with his Ainu brethren into the dark forests dwarfed at the feet of the majestic mountains looming up to touch the early morning sky.

**n.n**

_Wide, crystal clear, teary eyes gazed up from beneath the toadstool, her tiny, charred body trembling as she shrunk away from his chubby, outstretched hand._

_He gave the little lady his friendliest smile, and was only a little discouraged when she cowered further away, as if hopping to melt into the mushroom stalk behind her._

_Then again, he really couldn't blame her._

**n.n**

It had been almost three weeks since the men had left for the hunt.

He'd heard the rumours, the quiet whispers that would end abruptly whenever he, or another child they deemed weren't 'old enough' entered the room. He'd heard his mother weeping softly and praying to the gods late, late in the night when she thought he and Pirka were asleep. He'd seen the tense, set lines in the faces of the women and elders of the village, the way the older kids would pause in their daily activities or training to gaze intently at the mountains looming ominously near the village, the heavy black clouds engulfing their tips. He found himselfcopying this action and gazing up, up, way up the mountains. It was only when his little sister off-handily questioned what he was looking for did he realize he really didn't know. On the wind, one could taste the coming winter, the witch of November stealing away into the night, covering the grounds with thick frost. There was already snow on the mountain; it wouldn't be long before the valley his village was nestled in would also be covered in a blanket of white…

Yet still, there was no sign of the men.

So, now it had come to this. He crouched off to the side with the other children who had not yet 'come of age', his sister snuggling deeply into his side under their blanket as he gazed intently into the fire. The elders had called a meeting. He gazed around the fire, his eyes heavily shadowed under his head band, taking in all the faces and words exchanged with the firm mindset that he wouldn't forget a single moment, not a single word, not a single blink of this night. He wouldn't let himself forget.

They were debating the assembly of a search party. They would send out a group of able-bodied boys and women, even a few elders who could keep up, to find their missing hunters.

He half-listened to the deep breathing of little Pirka, her head rested on his shoulder, sound asleep like most of the other children. He refused to let himself doze off, despite how late it was.

However, sending a search party was as dangerous as it was useless. Why risk the lives of the wives and sons of dead men?

He watched the embers spark off the fire and waft up into the gloomy abyss above their heads. It was cold this night. He couldn't help but think of his father, sitting somewhere high up in the mountains. His gaze drifted over to gaze sleepily into the inky blackness beyond the trees, the firelight flickering bizarrely, almost sinisterly across the bare limbs. Beyond this forest, lay the mountains, and his father…

But if the men failed to return, then _they_ would all be dead as well.

He wondered, idly as he felt sleep close in around him, he was just so comfortable and warm with his sister nuzzling gently into his side, the crackling of the fire and lowered voices of the elders fading to a soft din, a strange lullaby in his ears. But the night was so, so very cold… And he wondered as he drifted off into the sweet oblivion of sleep, he wondered if his father was cold…

**n.n**

_He gasped lightly as he plunged his now bare foot into the knee-deep sludge, pausing briefly to glimpse back at the indent in the sticky mud where he'd lost his boot. The three-year-old quickly decided the boot was a lost cause not worth the effort it would take to fish it back out and continued his search._

_Father said they grew around this area…_

**n.n**

He paused on the path, daypack slung over one shoulder as he gazed back at the still-sleeping village.

The verdict of the previous nights meeting had been simple. There would be no search. It was too risky, with the threat of heavy snow ridding the icy November winds, to send a group of _women_ and _children_ up the mountain would be to send them to their deaths. Instead, they were to pray, either that the men returned on their own, or that they could survive the winter on the grains they'd stored alone.

HoroHoro couldn't accept that decision. He knew his father wasn't dead- he'd promised him he'd buy him those marshmallows, and his father _always_ kept his promises. The blue-haired boy nodded firmly as he made a quiet promise himself- he would return. After all, he _was_ the honorary Man of the House until his father got back. He knew he was supposed to be protecting his mom and sister…

But right now, his father needed him. With that, he spun on his heel and marched off determinedly towards the mountains.

No Ainu _ever_ left their brethren stranded.

**n.n**

_He panted heavily, his tiny chest heaving as his mud-coated legs (not to mention torso and arms) trembled beneath his weight. He was **exhausted**, but at least he'd found what he'd been searching for… If you could even identify what it was under the thick coating of mud he'd managed to cover it in while trying to worm his way back out of the cesspool. It didn't matter to the three-year-old Ainu however; he clutched it gingerly against his chest, as if it was the most precious treasure in the world. _

_Sure enough, she was still there, weeping quietly under the toadstool. He'd always hated to see girls cry…_

**n.n**

He ducked his head and raised his arm in front of his face in a vain attempt to hold off the thick, heavy wet snowflakes that pummelled his tiny, five-year-old form. The snow was so thick you couldn't even see two feet ahead of you, the cold white already piled up past his knees, yet still he ploughed on, the tiny voice crying outfor his father being easily swallowed by the howling winds. He called and called until his throat was too hoarse to even whisper anymore… And it was so, so cold, both his coat and the sweater he'd been wearing underneath soaked through and through, his feet literally sloshing in his boots from the cold, wet snow seeping in. He'd lost his daypack somewhere down the path while trying to conquer a snow drift the size of him. He figured it was back somewhere around the place where he'd strayed from the path. Yet still he searched, the thought of his father being even _half_ as miserable as he was providedmore than enough incentive to drive him forward through the bitter, clawing winds and snow, pausing only long enough to occasionally wiggle his nose, his fingers, or his toes in a vain attempt to regain feeling in his extremities.

**n.n**

_He watched her tremble again as he stumbled rather ungracefully closer, before flopping unceremoniously to his knees in front of the mushroom. She just looked so… pathetic, quivering like a leaf, trying to hide her face behind her tiny, tiny hands. She was so… small, even smaller than he was…And he was sure she'd be the prettiest Koropokkur in all the north if she wasn't so singed and dirty…_

_Then again, that wasn't her fault- it was the Machines…_

**n.n**

At least the snow had stopped… somewhat. He stumbled weakly, groping and fondling his way along between the trees like a blind man. Even the horrible burning sensation in his feet had faded away to nothing. Numb. He could see his fingers, stuck in a cupping position due to his soaked woollen gloves freezing in the bitter November winds, but he couldn't feel them anymore. Not even when he banged it rather hard against the side of a tree, he could hear a distinct crunching noise, but there was no pain, just… numbness. He was having an extreme amount of difficulty even twitching a muscle in his face, and he was so hungry… But his food was lost with his daypack… He couldn't tell where he was, how long he'd been wandering, whether it was night or day, whether he was alive or dead… Yet still, he continued on. First, he had to find his father, then he'd worry about finding his way back to the village. Everything would work out just fine, and when they got back, his father would buy him one of those _jumbo _bags of marshmallows, then he and Pirka would munch on them while wrapped up in his favourite blanket, the one his grandmother made, in front of the fire, and he'd tell her all about his adventure in the mountains. But first, he had to find his father. He kept repeating this mantra over and over in his mind until it became a never-ending drone, overriding his failing senses and giving him the strength to stumble on.

Yet deep in the back of his mind, where he could easily ignore or deny the thought, lay the knowledge that the one of the reasons he was still moving, was because he was afraid if he stopped now, he'd never start again.

**n.n**

_She looked up at him in surprise as he held the drooping leaf out in front of him. He smiled at her again, this time a sad smile. "It hurts, doesn't it?" She blinked up at him slowly. "I know what it's like to loose your home." He lowered his head to stare at the muddy little Butterbur leaf he'd managed to hunt down. Suddenly, it seemed so insignificant and small. "It really… it really hurts." He looked up and smiled again "But what's destroyed can be rebuilt. A house is just an object, a tool. A home is where your heart lays…" the Koropokkur blinked up at him again, her tiny mouth hanging open in a little pink 'o'. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly (thus the mud stains spread!) " Or at least that's what my mom says." He gazed down at her again, she'd made no move under the mushroom, just stared up at him with those wide, wet eyes. He felt his own eyes begin to well up, and he wasn't even sure why. "I know… I know I can't expect you to ever forgive humans for what they did to your field- and your family… But mom says it's rude to not even apologize when you know you've done something wrong… Those men… Why won't you at least let me say sorry for them?" the three-year-old sniffed and wiped his nose with his (muddy) arm, the small, chubby hand holding the mud-caked Butterbur leaf trembled slightly. _

_Two, much, muchsmaller hands reached out to tenderly grasp the ends of the wilted leaf._

**n.n**

He couldn't stop shaking. He was beginning to get a headache from the sound of his teeth clacking and crunching… he could taste blood and bone, yet still, he couldn't force his jaw to stop chattering if he wanted to. He swayed as if drunk, his clothes literally frozen onto his skin. He couldn't feel… anything. Not his hands, not his feet, his arms, legs, face, ears… the numbness spread like some kind of black cancer, dulling the pain in his body, in his mind. He was having trouble… remembering… His father. That's why he was here, he needed to find his… but he couldn't even find himself… oh where were his legs that he couldn't feel them yet, absurdly enough, they'd still be attached to his torso? What about his arms, his fingers… fingers… That's right, his father pinky swore… pinky swore he'd come home and… buy him… marshmallows… He decided he'd tell his father he really didn't want to go ice fishing anymore when he found him. He decided he didn't want anything to do with ice everagain. He leaned heavily against a tree and forcefully banged his head against the side until he could think somewhat straight again. No! He wasn't going to give up! He couldn't give up! He promised himself he'd make it back to the village! He had to protect his mom and sister- they needed him, he was the Man of the House! He wasn't going to let something as stupid as a bit of snow stop him!

Suddenly, he stumbled, then he was falling, falling forever into the beautiful, white drifts, and there he lay like some dead thing. The snow… felt strangely warm. Yes, so warm, and so very comfortable. His breathing began to slow as he watched the flakes drift slowly down from the cloudy heavens to land gracefully upon his frozen body. He was… tired. It felt like he'd been wandering for ages- It seemed like another lifetime since he'd last slept. He couldn't be expected to find his father when he was this sleepy, that wasn't fair at all. He'd… rest here. Just for a little… a little while…

He caught a blur of green from the corner of his eye. He turned his head lazily to stare at it, squinting into the muted greys of the surrounding forest. He blinked in surprise at what he saw.

A Koropokkur… They were supposed to bring… good luck. He smiled inwardly at the thought of his sisters face when he told her he'd seen a Koropokkur… Suddenly, it dashed out of his line of vision. He groaned and rubbed his eye wearily, then struggled to sit up. That frost spirit… they were the people of this mountain, he absently wondered if she'd seen his dad kicking around anywhere up here… Upon sitting up, he found the same tiny spirit, using a dainty butterbur leaf to keep the snow off her tiny form, standing no more than ten feet away from him.

"Hey." He croaked out, honestly surprised at how horrid his own voice sounded. "Have you seen my dad around here anywhere?" The Koropokkur simply stared at him for a while, then turned and darted off again, stopping about twenty feet away. HoroHoro moaned and struggled to his feet, once again finding a detached part of himself absolutely shocked at how much effort it took to simply stand up.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

His eyes darted between the mountain spirit and his own clumsy, awkward feet, forcing his legs to hold his weight, forcing one foot in front of the other, step after step after excruciating step. Each time he drew near, the Koropokkur would scamper off, only to stop and turn expectantly toward him again. Every time he fell, or he was sure he'd lost her, he'd simply look up to find her there, waiting, waiting, forever patiently waiting for him to struggle back up to his feet and stumble along to catch up to her. He wasn't sure how much time passed with the two of them entangled in their bizarre game- It could have been weeks. It could have been hours. The five-year-old Ainu didn't know or care, all that mattered, all that his whole world currently revolved around was this simple act of one foot in front of the other-Koropokkur run, stop, turn- one foot in front of the other…

**n.n**

_His head whipped up to stare at her in shock._

_And she smiled._

**n.n**

The villagers bustled frantically, elders and healers frenetically rushing this way and that, buzzing around the unconscious blue-haired boy that had mysteriously re-appeared during the night after being missing for almost four days. The poor boy was frostbitten, starved, and had developed phenomena, indeed the stakes seemed to be against the child, but for now he was alive, and…

"Madam, are you sure you're alright?" Polikka, startled from her knitting, stared up at the concerned visage of one of the village elders. Imagine, acting so worried and kind to her so shortly after forbidding her to search for her own son… The woman smiled serenely up at the elder.

"I would like some tea, if you don't mind." She chirped lightly before returning to her knitting. The creases in the elders face deepened with concern.

"You're acting very casual for a woman who's lost her husband and is quite close to loosing her son." The Ainu woman stopped knitting once again to look up at the old woman with a confident smile.

"I'm not at all worried," she began, her eyes gazing past the shrivelled elder to the tiny visitor perched comfortably upon the corner of her sons pillow, Butterbur leaf wafting lazily with the breezes stirred up by the frantic healers, its holder sound asleep, leaning against her boys shocking blue hair. "My HoroHoro won't die." Polikka smiled wistfully, _'He's in good hands.'_

_Ending Rant_

_Well, thus ending chapter two of this horrendous thing. Poor HoroHoro, his story wound up not being nearly as light-hearted and fun as Yohs… It also wound up about two pages longer to-boot o.O Whoosh!_

_Special thanks goes out to my lovely reviewers, without you guys I probably wouldn't have even continued this fic (however, this could be seen as a bad thing…)_

_**Jade Eye's: **Whoah, I keep thinking you're called 'Jade's Eyes' for some reason… But thank you for your review- I always thought Yoh would say something like that to poor Anna XD (Not that I actually think Anna is ugly.)_

_**Vash: **Thank you so much for your comment- I'm sorry this chapter wound up being… not at all funny… Er, I'll try harder to throw in some more light-hearted moments next chapter._

_**Hannah-asakura: **Thank you for the review- they make me feel all squishy and lurved inside :)_


	3. The Trouble with Ribbons

_A/N_: Well, here it is- the 'one-shot' that first inspired this whole fic… Though when it came to the first chapter, I found I was more in the mood to write for Yoh. I wrote the second chapter shortly after (obsessing over) working on my HoroHoro costume, so I kinda had the blue-haired Ainu on the brain… So now I'm (finally) posting what was originally supposed to be the first chapter: When Faust met Eliza. Whoo.

_This Disclaimer Vents in Disgust: If I owned Shaman King, would I really need to be writing fanfiction?_

_**Beginnings**_

_The Trouble with Ribbons_

Unruly locks of pale blond bobbed almost comically as the young boy quickly checked left, checked right then waited for a car to pass before he quickly darted across the icy road, pausing briefly upon reaching the opposing curb to reshuffle the three large textbooks balanced precariously in his thin arms. One book, _'The Encyclopaedia of Medical Terminology Vol II'_, slowly began to slide down his side despite his best efforts to firmly pin the thick book beneath his arm. His attempted dive to catch the grossly oversized text when he finally lost all hope of gripping it only resulted in the loss of all three. The seven-year-olds shoulders slumped in defeat, one small hand rising to push his sliding glasses back up to rest upon the bridge of his pert little nose before running through his ruffled hair in exasperation. _'Stupid books.'_ A barely audible sigh was the only sound the small German made as he bent down to pick up the offending hardbacks. He couldn't help but notice how absurdly small his hands looked in comparison to the thick manuscripts- obviously, they weren't printed for someone his size to be carrying around. Then again, no other kid his size _would_ be carrying these monsters around No other _sane_ kid anyway. He sighed again as he clutched the medical textbooks tightly to his small body and continued his trek home, his _new_ home, the blue eyes hidden behind his thick glasses glued firmly to the ground. It had been a long, _long_ first day…

**n.n**

"Class, in celebration of over-crowded classrooms, I'd like you all to meet our newest addition to the student body- his name is Foist VIII-"

"Erm… actually it's 'Faust VIII'…"

"I'm sure you'll all be happy to help make Foist VIII-"

"… F- Faust…"

"- Oh my, all this 'VIII' this and that makes me feel like I'm speaking to royalty (chuckle). Is it okay for me to just call you Foist?"

"…no."

"Alright, as I was saying, I'm sure you'll all be happy to help make Foist feel comfortable in his new class."

"N-no miss, it's not-"

"Foist? Would you like to tell the class a bit about yourself before we begin?"

"But… it's… I'm Fau…s…" he glanced up at his new teachers bright, cheerfully forced smile before gazing out at the expressions of his classmates- varying from bored to cruelly amused at his plight, a few muffled giggles sounding in response to his quiet pleas. But if there was one thing the children had in common, it was their eyes pinned directly on him. He felt his ears become uncomfortably warm as his gaze fell to his feet- he hated being the centre of attention.

"Foist? A few words?" He jumped slightly at the teachers unexpected intrusion into his thoughts. More stifled giggles. He ducked his head again, allowing his dishevelled hair to cover the red staining his cheeks.

"No… I'd rather not…"

**n.n**

He felt the indignant heat rising in his cheeks simply at the memory. The fact he'd been bumped up three grades, thus making him the smallest member of the class, didn't really help the situation either… Why couldn't he just be home schooled? It's not like his parents were hurting for money- they both had stable jobs at the hospital, and they certainly had no trouble affording the nanny that took care of him in their absence… which was pretty much everyday. He pushed his sliding glasses back up to their proper place as he trudged down the frosty sidewalk. Sometimes it seemed like his parents forgot they were even _married_, let alone had a child… He shook the thought from his head- it's not like they were _bad_ parents or anything; they made up for the lost time… whenever they were home… Well, now that they were closer to the hospital both his parents practised in, they could pop in during lunch breaks and such, right? That had been the whole point in moving, hadn't it?

A splash of soft pastel pink, standing out like a neon sign against the cold cement, caught his eye. He blinked down at the offending object, staring at the delicate length for a few heartbeats before he finally registered what it was.

A ribbon.

He awkwardly shrugged his books to one arm as he crouched down and plucked it off the sidewalk. A hair ribbon, like the ones he saw the girls in his class wearing. He glanced around the empty street, as if in hopes its owner would magically appear to reclaim the lost ribbon. It didn't look like one of those cheap lengths of fabric you bought at the corner store either… He squinted behind his thick lenses at the silk ribbon, a fine embroidery of little pink roses seeming to dance down its length. Suddenly, a blush rose in his face- such an elegant hair accessory _must_ belong to a really beautiful dignified young woman… He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat at this thought. He had never been very good with… girls… _especially _pretty ones… He glanced up at the house he'd found the ribbon lying in front of, craning his neck up to try and see if there was an upstairs window or something. His vision was obscured by a flowerbox.

Maybe…

He hopped up the front steps, hesitating briefly before ringing the doorbell. It would be rude to not return the ribbon, besides, maybe he and this… _girl_… he instinctively bowed his head coyly- he _really_ had never been very good with girls… Well, once he returned the ribbon, maybe he and this girl could be… friends…? Maybe. The house was on his way to school, so he wouldn't have any trouble finding it again. Even if the ribbon didn't belong to whoever lived here, at least he could say he tried. He shuffled his feet uncertainly. But it would be really, _really _neat if she lived here… Besides, he could just _imagine_ what the other kids in his class would say if they found out he was carrying around a girly pink ribbon… He somehow managed to suppress the horrified shudder.

The door swung open slowly, a middle aged woman peeked out as she dried her soapy hands with a dishcloth, looking straight over his head. He blushed indignantly and squeezed the ribbon tightly, loudly clearing his throat before the woman could close the door again. There was a brief pause before the woman finally looked down to meet his gaze, to which she blinked in surprise.

"May I help you…?" she drawled uncertainly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arm was beginning to hurt from trying to hold all his textbooks, besides, his nanny would worry if he came home too late…

"Um, is this your ribbon?" he blurted as he thrust the ribbon out rudely, then felt the heat rise in his cheeks when he realized what he'd done. "I mean- uh…" An unreadable look passed over the womans face, her hands freezing in mid-action as she slowly crouched down to get a better look at the small, embroidered length of fabric, a thin, pale finger reached out to forlornly trace the pattern on the soft pastel ribbon. The awkward moment passed however, when she suddenly stood again, smiling kindly down at the flustered seven-year-old. But her eyes… Her eyes looked so sad…

"It belongs to my daughter. Thank you for bringing it back, she's such a careless girl sometimes." His heart skipped a beat- the owner _did_ live here, of all the freak coincidences! The woman turned back and disappeared within the depths of the house, absently hailing him over her shoulder. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come in, come in- I'm sure she'll be pleased to meet you." Faust gawked. _Meet _her? He swallowed thickly, the blush already began to creep up his cheeks as he entered the threshold, absently trying (futily) to smooth down his unruly hair and debating internally whether or not he should take off his glasses for the encounter.

The stairs creaked under the combined weight of him and the 'ribbon girls' mother as he followed her up the narrow stairwell. The sound was lost in his ears under the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. Not only was he going to meet this new girl… he was going to meet her… _in her ROOM_. He unconsciously clutched the small ribbon closer to his chest as he tried to will away the roaring red staining his cheeks. He'd never been in a girls room before… Well, technically, he'd been in his moms- but, well, she was his _mom_; she didn't really count as a girl. Yet there he was, standing bashfully behind the older woman as she knocked sharply on the door, to be met by a positively _angelic_ voice giving permission to enter. His stomach lurched at the sound of the girls voice; she sounded so… But then the door was opening, and the thought was lost as he physically restrained himself from dropping everything and running.

"Eliza? You have a visito-" anything the older woman said after that point was lost to the little German boy, who suddenly found himself incapable of doing much else besides gawk at the scene that lay before him.

She… was… _wow_… Pale blue eyes blinked at him in surprise and interest, cream-colour cherub face framed beautifully by her long, wavy golden hair. She looked like… a princess in her pastel pink night-gown (matching her ribbon- which was still clutched tightly in his trembling little fist by the way), sitting bundled up in a home-made quilt beside the open window… And he… and he… he glanced down at his dusty too-large red winter coat, accented wonderfully by his mis-matched socks, and grossly oversized textbooks. Add that with his coke-bottle glasses, the usual abysmal state of his hair, and he was fairly sure his face must have been nearing the shade of a lobster…

He… he looked like… such… a… _DORK_! He was sure every organ in his body dropped to his feet in that moment of complete and utter mortification, and suddenly he found himself battling the almost overwhelming urge to seek out the nearest dark corner in which to wither up and _die. _He was drawn from his reverie by this 'Elizas' mother gently tugging his arm, pulling him forward- directly into the line of fire!

…Or at least that's what it felt like to the poor seven-year-old, as suddenly he found himself bare and exposed before the girls unfathomable ice blue depths, with nowhere to hide. He swallowed thickly, trying to will his heart to stop pounding as he cleared his suddenly cotton-dry throat in discomfort. He really, _really_ had never been any good with girls…

"Um… Is this your ribbon?" he managed to stammer out as he held out the length of pale fabric, slightly dirty from lying on the ground and rumpled from being held in his hot little hand. He internally cursed himself at the rather pathetic lack of grace in his offering, and his hand for trembling. He swallowed thickly as he stared at the rather pitiful looking ribbon- if there was one thing he had a natural talent for, it was absolutely _ruining_ what could have been a magical, romantic moment…

But then she smiled…

And then poor Fausts glasses fogged up…

"Thank you." She purred softly as she reached out and took the ribbon from his extended hand, her cool fingertips just barely grazing his knuckles- in that moment, he was sure his heart stopped. Her voice was so… so… _wow_… He was so caught up in the moment, he completely missed how dangerously moist her eyes had become, even as she continued to smile beautifully out at the world, her voice an elegant whisper. "I was wondering where this had wound up…" The German boy beamed. He felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder, glancing up quickly to meet the rather whimsical smile gracing this 'Elizas' mothers face.

"I have to finish with supper- Are you two okay up here by yourselves?" Faust felt like he'd been turned to stone, his eyes widening behind his thick glasses in complete and utter shock. He was going to be… _alone_ with a girl he just met! He peeked through his ruffled bangs at the smiling angel perched upon her bed, giving a confident nod in response to her mothers question, her hair flowing with the motion like nectar. The seven-year-old wilted inside- alone with a _beautiful _girl, in her _room_ no less! The older woman nodded in return, giving his shoulder a playful squeeze before slipping back out, the door shutting behind her. For a while the only sound was the creaking of the old stairs as the mother returned to the kitchen. Faust fidgeted. Ho-ly- CRAP! What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? It didn't feel right to just turn around and _leave_… He peeped up at the girl again to find her absently toying with the ribbon he'd returned to her, her pert, pink little lips pursed in thought. He ducked his head into the textbooks held tightly against his chest.

This would be _so_ much easier to handle if she wasn't so _freaking CUTE_.

"What are those?" he glanced up in surprise, blinking slowly in response to her question. It took a moment for him to realize her curious stare was directed at his medical texts.

"Books." he replied stupidly. Then internally kicked himself for doing so. If nothing else, he sure knew how to make himself look like a drooly moron… To his surprise, relief, and internal melting at the sweetness of it, Eliza giggled softly in response- it wasn't like the cold laughter of the kids in his class earlier that day, somehow, being laughed at by her made him feel… better. He silently gathered his courage for a few heartbeats, smiling sheepishly at the polite girl, before he took a few cautious steps closer to awkwardly and gracelessly flop the books onto the corner of her bed where she could see them better wherehe hovered hesitantly as he debated (battled) internally whether or not he should back away again. The blond girl leaned over in keen interest, a dainty hand reaching out to pick up _'The Human Anatomy- By Mike Oxlong'_. His mind reeled- she was so _close_… her hair smelt like oatmeal and honey… Her head perked up to meet him eye to eye, a bemused smile tweaking the corners of her tiny, pert… pink… round… plush… little lips… He swallowed thickly, his heart was pounding so loudly by now he was sure she could hear it. But if she could, she showed no signs of it.

"Why are you carrying these around?" she quipped as her head ducked down again to investigate the next book, her words playfully flowing like music in the modestly furnished room. The German boy fiddled with the hem of his coat shyly, looking anywhere but at the petite girl sitting before him.

"Well…" he began, mildly surprised at how tiny and clumsy his voice sounded following up her musical jingle. "You see… when I grow up… I'm sorta… going to… be…" his voice died down to a soft, nervousmumble, causing Eliza to lean in to try and hear what he was saying, thus making the poor boy more nervous and thus making his voice drop down to even more of a mumble. Insert vicious cycle here. "… A… a doctor." He finally managed to stutter out. His head snapped up to stare at her in alarm when he felt her suddenly jerk away, an unreadable expression gracing her usually kind visage. She then slowly turned to gaze out the window so he couldn't see her face anymore.

"That's… wonderful for you." Her tiny hands clenched tightly around the ribbon. She sounded so distant all of a sudden, so… sad. The blond boy felt his stomach lurch- had had done something to upset her? He clumsily pushed his sliding glasses back up his small nose as he scrambled for something to say.

"Uh… What about you? What to you want to be when you grow up?" he blinked in surprise when she laughed- but this laugh, this- it didn't sound… right, not like when she'd giggled at him before, this sounded so… almost… bitter, yet still she didn't turn to face him again.

"I'm not going to grow up." Faust blinked again before scoffing lightly, teasingly.

"Everybody has to grow up eventually."

"I'm not going to grow up," her shoulders began to quiver slightly, her tiny hands raising to clutch the pink ribbon close to her chest, still refusing to look at him "The doctor… The doctor told mama I was never going to grow up…" she was so sure that if she looked at him now, she was so sure she would break… she had never… not even in front of her mother… "He said I was never going to… get better…" she gazed down at the muddy ribbon in her trembling hands. "This- it's my favourite you know- it's my favourite, so that's why… I wanted it to be picked up by someone who could actually wear it outside… show it off…it's too pretty to just…" her hands clenched again, hiding the rose-printed strip of silk from view once more. "But mama… mama always finds it…" her voice trailed off, the awkward silence stretching on between the two as the seven-year-old boy gazed at her in quiet shock before he felt an absent smile pull at the corners of his lips.

"If you love something, let it go. If it returns, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was." Eliza whirled to gape at the blond boy, who simply smiled awkwardly back as he scratched the back of his head. "Or something like that…" The smile slid away slowly, a distant, contemplative look gracing his features as he turned away to stare intently at the corner of her dressing table. "My father- he's a doctor too, so is my mom- my father says that a patient is never beyond saving… until they lose hope. Because if the patient gives up, then they're even beyond the help of a miracle…" he shyly glanced over at the stunned girl, her perfect features wiped clean by bewilderment. For some reason, seeing her like this… it made him… hurt… hurt deep inside, and it was at that moment he realized that he never wanted to see this girl cry. "You- you have to have a dream Eliza… you have to have _something_ to get you through the day… everyone… Everyone needs something to help them look forward to tomorrow… if you lose- if you lose hope… then you'll be… lost." He fumbled over his words, ending inelegantly, tearing his eyes away from her to stare intensely at the floor. He knew what he wanted to say- he knew the feelings bubbling within his chest, he just didn't know the right words… She gawked at him a moment longer- No one had ever… Even her own parents looked at her with such sad, empty eyes… she felt her face flush as she turned to stare out the window again. She'd never…

"I… I think I'd like to maybe… I'd like to be a nurse… when I grow up." Fausts head whipped up to stare at her, gazing lazily out the window as she absently nodded to herself. "The ones at the hospital, the nurses are always so nice to me when I'm there… I'd like to do that for someone else someday." She turned and smiled at him, and she looked just so much prettier when she smiled genuinely… He felt the excitement bubble up from within as he found himself smiling back.

"Really? A nurse? That's great! Oh! I have a really good book at home- a beginners book, I could bring it with me next time I co-" he cut himself off in mid-sentence, visibly wilting as he toyed with the hem of his jacket again, abashed by his forwardness. He internally kicked himself over and over- What kind of first class _MORON_ just rudely invited himself over to other peoples houses without permission? What was he _doing_, getting so excited about some stupid books anyway? Now she must _really_ see him as a total dork… He didn't even _know_ her, not really anyway. He glanced up at the angelic beauty hiding her gentle smile behind her dainty hand, her eyes giving away her amusement in the wake of his outburst. But he'd like to. He'd like to get to know her… he'd like to do this… just stand at the foot of her bed and talk… he'd like to savour this moment, hold onto it forever and ever. He'd- he'd like to do this everyday… He fidgeted with the hem of his coat again. "Erm, if… if you don't mind, that is…" he felt strangely… naked, exposed and afraid, all because of one simple little statement… Her soft warm voice interrupted him quietly before he could even finish.

"I don't mind at all. In fact, I'd really like that, er…"

"Faust." He found himself responding, smiling shyly at the edge of her bed, not able to look her in the face. "Faust VIII." She glanced down at the ribbon, smiling tenderly to herself as she rolled the name over in her mind- Such a hauntingly beautiful name… she glanced at the boy shyly. No other name would suit him nearly as well…

"Faust…" she whispered faintly, he felt himself blush, his name sounded so poetic when she said it… And if he had gained the courage to gaze up at the young Eliza at that moment, he would have seen the faint red staining her fair cheeks as well…

_Ending Rant_

_Well, after re-writing the end three times, I find myself still squicked, yet unable to think of a better way to do it. Le sigh._

_Once again, kudos to all my awesome reviewers- you guys rock my socks! XD_

_**-): **As for chapter one, well, in the manga Yoh did say every memory he had of Anna ended with him in tears…So I figured she was the wonderful little hellion we all know and love since birth. As for chapter two… Yeah... that's it… the end… kaput… Is there supposed to be more o.O?_

_**Vash: **Thank you for reviewing (again). Hopefully this chapter was a bit more light-hearted and fun to read…If you could slog through all that sap…_

_**LadyGirl: **Wow, definently got the pathos going for Horo in the last chapter… As for what happened to HoroHoros dad? Well, no one knows, he just didn't come back ;P Thanks for your review!_

_**Jade Eye's: **Wow… after trying it out myself, I've discovered you're right. I really don't exist in ffns search engine…As for Horo, well, I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, but I really meant to put in a quip about him promising to become stronger so he can take care of his mom and sister in his fathers place… It just kind of wound up… being conveniently forgotten…_


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